Meeting Death with a Smile
Last night, I dreamed I died. I said Innalillah… and closed the final chapter of my life — calmly, consciously, and without fear. I awoke not in terror, but with a quiet gratitude, realizing the dream was more of a reminder than a warning.
Among the Malays, they say, “Mimpi mati, panjang umur” — to dream of one’s own death means you will live long. Perhaps it’s not just about the length of years, but the renewal of spirit. Each “death” we face — in dream or waking — clears a space for new life to unfold.
I have brushed against death a few times before: angin amar, mild strokes, those moments when the body falters and consciousness slips to the edge of the unknown. Each time, I found myself at peace — even curious. I would think, so this is death? And part of me would smile and wonder what fun awaited, free from this body.
I am not without fear. But I have learned to make peace with it, to hold it close and study it like an old teacher. The real practice, I believe, is to die with complete awareness — to let go not in panic, but in presence. If I can do that when the time truly comes, then perhaps I will have lived well enough to die well,
too.
Until then, I take my dream as a blessing — a reminder that the story is not done yet, and that there’s still paint to mix, words to write, and children to teach.
A verse for the closing reflection:
Death came to me softly in a dream,
Not as a thief, but as an old friend.
“Rest easy,” he said, “you’ve still miles to walk.”
And I awoke — smiling, alive again.
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